


Apples to Apples

by victorianvirgil



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform, Sanders Sides - Freeform, Swearing, apple picking, boys being cute in sweaters, boys loving fall, halloween is the best holiday man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil
Summary: As they have done for years, Roman and Virgil take a rather long road trip from The Big Apple to a small town in order to go apple picking.





	Apples to Apples

The churning of the tires beneath Virgil harmonized with Danny Elfman and the beautiful, ominous orchestra flooding his eardrums. His cheek was pressed against the cool glass, gaze turned to the foliage just beyond his touch. He was lost in a world full of caroling skeletons and beasts that plagued the quietest corners of his mind when he was alone in the dark, anchored only by his lover sitting to his left, holding his hand in a loose grip and humming along to what Virgil swore to be the greatest movie soundtrack of all time.

He didn’t need to turn to look at his boyfriend, to see his kind eyes and tousled hair. And that smile of his when he looked Virgil’s way, the smile he knew that Roman had etched across his lips whenever he gave Virgil’s hand the tiniest of squeezes. An _I love you_ and a _you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met_ and an _I’m so lucky to have you_. A smile he reserved just for him.

The breath Virgil released fogged up the glass as his cheeks were powdered a soft rouge.

“Honestly, I don’t understand what you like so much about this movie.”

Virgil was jerked from his fantastical world, allowing his back to lean against the passenger’s side door and for his knees to uncomfortably redirect in Roman’s direction beneath his oppressive seatbelt (that the other had forced him to put on, refusing to drive until he heard the faint click). He raised a brow, silently beckoning his counterpart to explain his inane opinion.

“It’s just . . .” Roman began, shrugging indifferently as he turned his eyes to the road. Coward. “The Corpse Bride is just better. So much better.”

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes and adjusting Roman’s hand in his own so that the tips of his fingernails were teasingly puncturing small, crescents into Roman’s knuckles. He yelped and pulled back, brows furrowing as his hand retreated to the steering wheel.

“We’ve talked about this before,” Virgil said, his words final.

“And your argument?”

“That you’re wrong.”

Roman was unable to hold back his scoff while he shook his head. One of the few things they didn’t agree on, and Virgil had long since stopped trying to make Roman see the light. Roman just rarely brought it up, stubborn in his ways. Like an ox. A stupid, stupid ox.

They sat in silence for a bit, the symphony shifting into another act and Roman started to sing softly under his breath. He was lost in the song, in their little world inside the white convertible in which he sat besides his lover while listening to _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ soundtrack. Virgil’s hand didn’t hesitate as it reached out to remove Roman’s hand from the wheel, entwining his fingers with his own, and settling them back on the center console where they belonged.

Virgil could hear the smile in Roman’s voice as he continued to sing.

The ride was absurdly long, nearly two hours outside the city, and Virgil would have refused had Roman not tempted him with the ability to play whatever he wanted. So it was the same soundtrack on a loop, nearly restarting for the third time as they passed an orchard. They turned onto a dirt road, pulling into a parking space as Roman shifted the car into park.

“This is the most sincere pumpkin patch in the Northeast,” he grinned at his lover, reaching into the backseat to pull their coats and scarves into their laps.

“Oh fuck you. We’re picking apples,” Virgil replied, his words lacking venom and were instead laced with a small laugh. Roman beamed.

They pulled on their overgarments before stepping out, Roman locking the car and Virgil falling into step with him. They were inches apart, shoulders brushing with every step. Virgil felt the electric pulses rush through his veins despite the thick layers of clothing separating them.

Virgil tucked his hands into his pockets, increasing the pace of his strides in order to keep up with Roman’s slightly longer legs.

After only a few steps, they were greeted by the blinding smile of a small male cloaked in flannel. A pair of glasses settled on his nose like a king upon his throne, a simple black rim that belonged more to a hipster from Portland, Oregon than a farmer from Redding, Connecticut.

“We want to pick some apples,” Roman said with a polite smile.

“We grow many different kinds here,” he replied. His joy, Virgil concluded, was genuine. As if he actually enjoyed his life or something. “I’ll have Lo start up a tractor and we can take you wherever you want!”

“We can walk,” Roman countered, hand lingering around Virgil’s elbow and tightening to keep him in place, knowing fully well the other might just take off. Walking hadn’t been a part of their verbal contract and Virgil might just back out. But he remained, dutifully, to appease his lover.

“Just come back when you’re done to pay!”

Roman smiled and tugged Virgil along, making sure they were far enough away before saying, “Well that guy looks like an alien that is so good at being a human that no one buys it.”

Virgil shrugged, removing his elbow from the other’s grasp, “Eh, I think I liked him. Cute guy, would make a great lover.”

Roman’s features remained neutral despite the teasing, willing to play along as usual. “I’ll let you know, baby.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“You started it.”

They were both grinning from ear to ear, fingers entwining sometime during their conversation - possessively or by instinct, neither knew - as they walked about half a mile across the orchid. Virgil had picked up a hand-woven basket and carried it in his free hand, eyes searching for apples to take home. Neither of them could bake so maybe they would talk a friend of theirs into making a pie for them. Maybe they would try and inevitably watch their kitchen go up in flames.

But it was important to both of them, a tradition they had started years and years before they were even a couple, so it would be worth it.

A shriek from Roman stirred Virgil, making him turn and raise a questioning brow his lover’s way before following his line of sight to an apple tree.

“They’re perfect!” he exclaimed, oblivious to his overreaction. Virgil rolled his eyes but hummed in agreement, dropping Roman’s hand as the other subconsciously began walking towards it. Drawn in like a moth to a flame.

Roman was walking slowly, studying the tree as if he were crafting a battle plan. The branches were flimsy and unreliable, and with the better apples at the top, it would be a risk to free climb. But luckily, Roman spotted a ladder not too far away pressed against another apple tree.

The look he gave Virgil was nothing short of downright sinful as he shuffled over to retrieve it.

“Wanna climb?” he asked, eyeing Virgil sitting at the base of the tree. Stubbornly of course.

“In your wet dreams,” he mused, refusing to help as Roman leaned the ladder against the sturdy trunk. He did, however, move out of the way and stand beside the ladder in case his lover were to fall.

Roman set a foot on the first wrung, his grin devilish and he even dared a wink Virgil’s way before beginning to climb.

It was difficult to not pull the other off, pin him to the ground, and kiss that infamous cockiness of his out of his lips. But that was exactly what Roman wanted so Virgil restrained himself. Plus, the view of Roman’s ass wasn’t all that bad either.

“Can you at least hold the basket so I don’t have to throw them down and bruise all the apples?” Roman asked, not bothering to look as he stretched out to reach an apple.

Virgil nudged to ladder with his toe, smirking at Roman cursed.

“Yeah, baby, just hand them to me.”

And so Roman began to pluck apples from the tree, Virgil transferring them in the basket while progressively shaking the ladder a bit more.

“Is there a wind?” he asked, a death grip on the wrungs as he glanced down at Virgil with the slightest bit of fear in his eyes.

“Not that I can tell,” Virgil replied, studying his nails and trying not to smile. It was too easy to tease him. Too damn easy.

“Hold it steady, I need to get this one,” Roman ordered, pulling himself from the ladder and into the maze of thin branches. Virgil couldn’t stop his laughter as he pulled the ladder away, resting it gently on the ground and watching Roman duck under branches to emerge from the top.

He held up an apple victoriously, grin fading when he saw the ladder on the ground by Virgil’s feet.

Before Roman could say anything, Virgil shouted, “Jump, coward.”

Roman ducked back inside without a word, Virgil ready to ridicule him as he would carefully edge his way down-

Roman crashed into Virgil, landing on top of him and gracelessly sending them both to the ground. He groaned, Roman’s weight above him more than he anticipated or was ready for.

Virgil placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder to push him off, Roman complying and rolling onto his back with his eyes on the stainless cobalt sky above them. “Dick move, Hot Topic.”

“The ladder fell,” he replied, just barely holding back his laughter.

Roman scoffed, “Asshole.”

“Idiot.”

“Scumbag.”

“Mhmmm, dipshit,” Virgil said, leaning in and nibbling on Roman’s ear lobe. He shoved Virgil away, getting to his feet and pulling Virgil up with one hand while the “perfect” apple remained in the other. He rubbed it on his jeans, offering it to him.

“My hero,” Virgil laughed, examining the apple before gently brushing his lips against the smooth, red surface.

He took a bite, eyes closed as he slowly chewed and swallowed. He then met Roman’s curious gaze, wondering if his efforts to please Virgil were fruitful.

After a moment, Virgil reached out to cup his lover’s cheek and pull him into a mesmerizing kiss. Roman’s breathing hitched, clearly not expecting the sudden intimacy, and one of his arms instinctively wrapped around Virgil’s waist to draw him closer.

After a moment, they pulled back to look into each other’s eyes like lovesick teenagers. Foreheads together, bodies entwined, their breaths were synchronized. A unit, a team.

“What if I told you the apple was poisonous?” he mused, fingertips brushing against Roman’s strong, strong jaw.

“Then I guess we’ll both start choking on our own breaths in a few moments,” he mumbled, licking Virgil’s bottom lip as his free hand moved to wrap around Virgil’s wrist. The one with the apple.

“I’m immune.”

“Well that’s unfortunate for you. You are to live the rest of your life alone while your soulmate experiences the sweet release of death before your very eyes.”

He then lifted Virgil’s wrist, leaning in to take a bite of the apple. He chewed, considering it, before nodding. “Definitely poison.”

Virgil broke out into a brilliant smile, finishing the apple as they began walking back towards the farm and the hipster pretending to be a farmer. Roman dutifully carried the basket of twenty or so apples, Virgil remaining by his side and chucking his own once it was down to a core.

But then they stopped, Virgil’s gaze fixing on the array of color stretched out in the sky above their heads. He stopped, turning his head back to glance at the sun slipping behind the trees dressed in reds to oranges to yellows.

Roman turned with him, finding beauty in the same exact scene.

A gust of wind kissed them as it passed, brushing the back of their exposed necks and rustling Roman’s hair a bit more. Virgil turned to look at him, smiling as he patted the other’s hair back into place and moved to kiss him again. To kiss the incarnate of his heart and soul. Roman dropped the basket of apples, stunned from the interruption and pulling away with a curse.

“The apples,” he mumbled but Virgil didn’t care, not when he had this thing of beauty in his arms that even Mother Nature couldn’t rival. Not with the picturesque sky or the freshness of her apples. Nothing could compare to him.

“Fuck ‘em,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Roman’s mouth as if he were testing the waters. As if he had to.

“Shove an apple up my ass?” Roman mused, brow raised as he felt a smile spread across his lips.

“If that’s what it takes to get you to shut the hell up and kiss me.”

Roman’s smile drained the sun of its light and heat, brighter and warmer than anything Virgil had ever felt before as he leaned in to kiss Virgil in the most perfect way a man could be kissed, the taste of apples and love on his lips. And they kissed again, until the sky was purple and Virgil could hardly see the twinkling in his lover’s eyes.

They gathered a dozen or so apples from low-hanging branches, quickly paying the kind farmer extra for staying late for them before settling back into their car. Roman started to drive - after they were each protected by the gentle hug of a seatbelt, of course - and Virgil started to play _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ soundtrack. Again.

Virgil stared out the window, unable to see much in the dark but it didn’t matter because all he could think about was how much he loved Roman. And when he glanced to his left, the smile across his lips was one he reserved for Roman and Roman alone.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, it’s ronnie!
> 
> because halloween is the best holiday (not opinion, just fact), mac & I will be posting two fics a week. look for them on mondays and fridays!
> 
> also feel free to follow our tumblr (victorianvirgil) where we will also post three headcanons a week (tuesdays, thursdays, & sundays).
> 
> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed,  
> ronnie


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